


preoccupied

by DeconstructedIronhide (InsertCoolName)



Series: Sinday Drabbles [17]
Category: Transformers (Bay Movies)
Genre: Interfactional Relations, Oral Fixation, Oral Sex, Other, Piercings, Pre-Canon, Pre-Earth Transformers, Rough Sex, Secret Relationship, Sticky Sexual Interfacing, because Ironhide yeah, because this is very much DL and not Drift, is... is that a tag?? it is now I guess, kiiinda but not very, pre-whenever Deadlock defected
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-21
Updated: 2019-02-21
Packaged: 2019-11-01 13:11:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 646
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17867882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InsertCoolName/pseuds/DeconstructedIronhide
Summary: “Y-yeah, you could.” Deadlock arches an optic ridge, but before they can say anything Ironhide continues: “Or, you could give me something todo. You know me, Deadlock. Gotta actuallykeepme preoccupied.”





	preoccupied

**Author's Note:**

> Tumblr drabble featuring @poiseandpatience's muse Deadlock. Not beta read.

Ironhide is  _ thinking too much _ .

Deadlock’s  _ good _ at making Ironhide do that. Of course, they’re even  _ better _ at making it  _ impossible _ for him to think, but right now–

Deadlock hooks a claw into the ring on the underside of Ironhide’s spike and  _ tugs _ , making Ironhide gasp and jerk up off of the ratty berth at the jolt of painful pleasure it sends through his array. He reactivates his good optic and glares down his chest at the other mecha, and Deadlock just glares right back, golden optics narrowed in an icy and  _ impatient _ sort of mischief.

“I can hear the gears in your helm grinding,” they tease, claw still hooked on the piercing. Ironhide just grunts in reply, and they tug at it again, this time hard enough to make Ironhide  _ yelp _ . “You’re not  _ paying attention _ .”

Tossing his helm back against the berth, Ironhide snorts. “Sorry. Just getting a bit– _ bored  _ here, y’-y’know?” he says, tone sarcastic even as his voicebox stalls and spits static when Deadlock ducks their helm to lash at the head of Ironhide’s spike with their glossa before wrapping their lipplates around it. They suck at it almost lazily, although there’s a teasing - a  _ threat _ , really - of sharp dentae against the sensitive metal that has a strangled noise escaping from Ironhide. He invents sharpy before resetting his voicebox with an audible click.

“ _ Distracted _ ,” he corrects himself, giving a slight roll of his hips. It earns a low hum around his spike and a prick of claws against the inside of his thigh from the other mecha laying between his legs, and Ironhide groans.

“Distracted,” Deadlock echoes, pulling off from his spike. Their lipplates brush against it as they speak, making Ironhide twitch and grit his dentae as he tries not to outright thrust up against them. “Well then. If I’m not keeping you _sufficiently_ _preoccupied_ then perhaps I should leave you to take care of yourself.”

With that abruptly Deadlock sits up, as if they really are going to leave Ironhide there to his own devices, but the claw  _ still _ hooked in Ironhide’s piercing just yanks it with him, and it  _ could _ have been an accident but Deadlock’s optics  _ definitely _ say otherwise, and Ironhide gives yet another jerk up into nothing at the sting of it, baring his dentae with a hiss.

“Y-yeah, you  _ could _ .” Deadlock arches an optic ridge, but before they can say anything Ironhide continues: “ _ Or _ , you could give me something to  _ do _ . You know me, Deadlock. Gotta actually  _ keep _ me preoccupied.”

It’s the fact that Deadlock _does_ actually know Ironhide well enough to know this that has Ironhide distracted. It’s not like this is the first time they’ve been in such a _compromising_ situation, and Ironhide doubts it will - and _damn_ _him_ , but _hopes it won’t_ \- be the last.

Before he can let the thought get to him again, Deadlock is letting go of his spike. Ironhide whines, only for the sound to morph into a moan when the mecha sidles up his frame, ending up with their knees on either side of his helm, their aft on his chest, and their spike hovering right over Ironhide’s chin, Just the sight of it has Ironhide shivering, and he ducks his helm to mouth at it, earning a quiet gaps from Deadlock. They laugh and bring a servo up to stroke at the side of Ironhide’s helm before roughly grabbing his chin, pressing against Ironhide’s lipplates with a claw until he opens his intake.

“Alright,” the Decepti–the  _ other mecha _ purrs. “Maybe this will keep you  _ preoccupied _ .”

Leaning forward over Ironhide’s helm and reangling their hips, Deadlock sinks their spike into Ironhide’s intake, and Ironhide deactivates his optics with a satisfied rumble.

He’s still going to end up  _ thinking too much _ later, when all of this is said and done. But for now he’ll just–let himself  _ enjoy _ this.


End file.
